‘All right Taw? Just nipped in to sort the beer for tonight.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘We’ve built one hell of a fire!’
‘Oh, we have, have we?’ She smiled.
‘I reckon I’m winning her round.’ He looked like a child at Christmas. ‘I spoke to Gary; he’s given me a couple of pointers.’
‘Needle, I’m not being funny, but if Gary knew what made our Connie tick, they’d not be divorced, now, would they?’
‘You’ve got a point.’ He rubbed his chin, as if considering this very thing.
‘Have you seen my mum?’ A quick glance around the place and it was evident her mother was not in residence.
‘No, I’ve been down at the beach.’
‘Well, no worries. I’ll try the wine bar.’
‘See you later!’ he yelled as she sped up and made her way across the street. It was a strange feeling, knowing she could at any point bump into Ed – the thought alone left her a little giddy. Her stomach rolled at the prospect of reunion, but first, she needed to find Annalee.
After she’d visited every pub she could think of, the wine bar and even the beach where Annalee sometimes sat with friends, Tawrie was a little stumped. She called her nan, but her motherhad not ventured home. And then it occurred to her: maybe she had made her way down to Rapparee Cove, in preparation for the get-together.
Tawrie walked the coastal path over Hillsborough and sure enough, as she looked down into the secluded cove from the vantage point on the clifftop, she spied the small, dark head of Annalee sitting on a wide cushion just up from the shoreline, staring out to sea. She felt the rise of a lump in her throat, wondering if she’d ever seen such a lonely sight.
Going intentionally slowly, she made her way down the steps, giving Annalee time alone before she disturbed her peace. Under a veil of caution she trod the sand, admiring the huge bonfire that Needle and Connie had constructed, with driftwood and logs piled high in the middle of the cove, as well as the smattering of cushions and blankets that were dotted here and there on the sand. The bar was dressed in a Tiki-themed skirt, and it all boded very well for the evening ahead. Not that the Gunn Fire was paramount in her thoughts. Right now, it was all about talking to her mother. Harriet’s diary had allowed her to see her mother from a new angle and it was illuminating. Tawrie felt a little swamped with emotion. All those wasted years ... but this was no time for maudlin reflection, it was the time for action, for change, the dawn of a new era.
‘Mum?’ she called softly, not wanting to frighten or surprise her, but equally needing to make her aware of her presence.
Her mother turned sharply and wiped tears from her cheeks. Tawrie’s eyes were drawn to the fresh thin silver scar that ran from the top of her eyebrow to her hairline. A grim, permanent reminder of her tumble down the steps.
‘I was just ...’ The woman pointed out over the calm sea. The breeze blowing off it was carrying the last of the summer warmth before autumn staked a claim on the landscape and their mood. She made to stand up. ‘I’ll go.’
This was the point they had arrived at, unable to be in close proximity, properly estranged.
‘No. Please stay.’ She placed her hand on her bony shoulder. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ Tawrie sat down on the cushion next to her and raised her knees to rest her elbows on them. They hadn’t fully conversed since the morning after Annalee’s accident when with fatigue at the masthead and frustration bubbling over, they had both spoken plainly. It had been a month of strained relations and Tawrie felt the flare of shame at all the things she’d said. This time, she kept her voice low, calm. ‘I really need to talk to you, Mum.’
‘What about?’ The fear in her mother’s eyes was distressing, as was the croak to her voice. There was no mistaking her wariness, a reminder to Tawrie to proceed with caution. If they had spoken more over the years, her question might have been comical – there was so much they needed to talk about!
‘Do you remember Harriet Stratton, Mum? She stayed in Corner Cottage one summer, the summer when we lost Dad.’
Annalee nodded, her head all of a wobble on her thin neck.
‘I had a coffee with her; she had two little ones and then I don’t think I saw her again. She left and didn’t come back, until yesterday, in fact.’
‘Oh.’ Her mother looked blank, as if it were very little to do with her.
‘It’s her son, Ed, that I’ve been seeing ... that I saw.’ She didn’t know how to phrase it.
‘The one who broke your heart?’ Annalee asked, her eyes wide.
Tawrie nodded. ‘I don’t think he meant to.’
‘Hurts just the same though, right?’ Her mum dug her finger in the gritty sand and pushed a hole.
‘Yes, it hurts just the same.’ She took a breath. ‘Harriet kept a diary when she was living in Ilfracombe. She was going through a fairly rough patch: her marriage was ending and she wrote everything down.’
Still her mum dug with her finger, burrowing into the sand, keeping busy, distracted, swallowing frequently, her gaze wide.
‘I don’t want to upset you on our birthday, and I didn’t plan it this way, but it’s important we talk.’
‘We are talking.’
